


One Winter's Night

by RainySpringMorning



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Bromance, Complaining about the cold, M/M, Wolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 04:29:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5525420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainySpringMorning/pseuds/RainySpringMorning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ralof and Bormic are chased down by a pack of wolves. </p><p>Disclaimer: Skyrim and all related characters/content belongs to Bethesda Game Studios. The character Bormic belongs to TheLoneSurvivor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Winter's Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheLoneSurvivor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLoneSurvivor/gifts).



The wolf pack howled, announcing their ever-growing presence.

They would soon be upon them, Ralof knew. He struggled onward, unyielding in his jerky gait through the thigh-deep snow, his breath coming fast and hard. Bormic was close behind, his raspy gasps giving Ralof the strength to keep moving.

Had it been two or perhaps three, Ralof might have turned around. A pack of twelve was a completely other story. It was dark, nearing midnight, and the snow was as much an enemy as the wolves. Unstable footing and hard to maneuver in, it was the perfect trap for prey. He cursed himself, wishing they had taken the pass around the mountains; it might have been longer, but it would have been safer than cutting through the old pass.

“We will exhaust ourselves before we even have a chance at outrunning them,” Bormic called. Ralof pressed on, unable to consider letting himself slow. The wolves’ howls were ominously close.

“The trees, you fool!” Bormic bellowed. “If we cannot go ahead, we shall go up. They will not reach us there!”

“They will surely surround us,” Ralof huffed. “And wait until we try to come down, or fall out.”

It was clever, Ralof had to admit. Eyeing the pinecone-laden conifers above, he spotted one with thick branches, wide enough to hold a man comfortably, with branches and stumps low enough for climbing. He stopped below it, gesturing urgently.

“You first, my friend,” Bormic said graciously, the hint of a smile curling his lip. Ralof snorted at his pleasantries – this was not the time! – but scrambled up nonetheless. He reached down to offer a hand, but a shift in the shadows behind Bormic caught his eye. Moonlight captured the slender muzzle and gleaming eyes as the wolf slid out into sight.

“Wolf. Behind you,” Ralof whispered, too terrified to move. Bormic froze, his hand still outstretched.

The wolf sprang with a snarl at the same moment that Bormic hefted his axe from his back and whirled. The blade bit into the wolf’s scruff and it yelped, dropping to the snow. Two more shot out from the dark, and Ralof watched between fear and awe as Bormic slammed them to the ground, sending up clouds of snow from the force of his strikes.

Six more appeared, three of them hanging behind, waiting for Bormic to fall. The man refused to, swinging his blade and howling with the snarling beasts, his strength ferocious and admirable. As two of the three died, the others leaped in, and so did Ralof.

At one point he swung, seeing the blood soaking Bormic’s forearm. “It’s nothing,” he reassured gruffly. “But I’d rather get off the ground for a bit.”

He growled with pain, occasionally wincing as the stubbly branches tugged against his arm. Ralof hauled him up onto the large branch he’d noticed earlier, and promptly began to unfasten the shredded bracer hiding the worst of the damage. To his surprise, Bormic didn’t protest; he simply sank his teeth into his lower lip and sat quietly, letting Ralof do what needed to be done.

The flesh had been shredded to the bone, hanging off in meaty clumps and straggly bits. Ralof stared at it for a very long time, watching the blood ooze freely. Bormic cleared his throat and the sound shook him back into his own skin. “We have to bind this. Have any cloth?” Ralof asked.

“A tunic will do for now,” Bormic said quietly. “I’m not certain I can pull mine off… like this.” Ralof nodded seriously, beginning to unbuckle his cuirass. They’d dropped their bags during their run, hoping the lesser weight would allow them to run faster. It seemed it didn’t make much of a difference now, and they really needed the supplies. A sweat-stained tunic, dirty from exposure to the dirty ground, was the last thing to be wrapping a wound with.

Ralof tore strips from the bottom of his tunic until he was certain he had enough. Taking Bormic’s hand, he gently wrapped the first one in place. Bormic jumped slightly, his bleary eyes sparking with pain. “It’ll be alright,” Ralof soothed, but he couldn’t keep the worry from his tone. “You’ll be alright.” He told himself this as much as he told Bormic. Bormic smiled and reached out, touching Ralof’s cheek, thumb rubbing down his jawline.

“Ralof,” he mumbled. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Ralof flushed, not saying anything until he had finished binding the wound. “Do you need anything else? Want me to go look for our packs?”

“No, no,” Bormic muttered sleepily. “I’ll be fine. Unless you can do something about this dastardly cold?”

Ralof laughed. “Sorry, my friend.”

“Ah well,” Bormic chuckled. “It was worth a try.”

~*~

The pale dawn light woke Ralof. Blinking grit from his eyes, he lifted his head, looking out from his spot on the tree branch. The sky was lovely, streaked with yellow and blue, wisps of creamy gray clouds like painterly strokes. Noticing a weight on his shoulder, Ralof turned his head and found Bormic resting his head there. Glancing down at his arm, he was pleased to see that it lifted with the rise and fall of his chest. It had stopped bleeding under its tight dressing, but Ralof knew that a clean one would be the best thing for it.

A quick survey of the ground, still stroked in shadow, told him that the wolves had given up their hunt, much to his relief. “Bormic,” he whispered. “Wake up. We can go.”

“Are the wolves gone?” Bormic grumbled. “I was dreaming about the damned things.”

“Aye, they’ve left. Off to find better prey,” Ralof said. “Come on, I’ll help you down. We’ll take it slow.”

“Shall we look for our packs?” Boric asked once they were on the ground. He was very pale, clinging to Ralof as he wavered from foot to foot, dazed from the impact on his bodily strength. “How far is camp?”

“Another few miles, I’d suspect.”

“Well,” Bormic cast a glance at the sky. “Let us not dally and waste the daylight, eh?”

~*~

Thankfully, the camp had been set up at the end of the mountain pass, sheltered on a ridge surrounded by trees and brush. Ralof had sent Bormic straight to the healer, while he went for food. He wandered back to the tent now, strips of venison and cheese between thick sourdough bread. He munched on one as he spread the curtains aside and poked his head in. Bormic almost ran into him, clutching his arm and wearing a grimace.

“Pointy-fingers, that one,” he complained under his breath. “Hurt more than when you bound it up. I should have stayed with you.”

“Well, I’m sure our healer knows a bit more than I do,” Ralof shrugged. “I just did what I could with what we had.”

“Is that one for me?” Bormic asked, taking the second sandwich from his hand. “I’m starving. Thanks.” He bit into it ravenously. Ralof held back a smile, glad to see how quickly the strength was returning to his friend.

“So… what will we do today?” Ralof watched Bormic out of the corner of his eye, wandering the perimeter of the camp. “Up for hunting wolves?”

Bormic choked on his food, eyes bulging in disbelief. “Gods, never!” he exclaimed. He looked at Ralof as though he were mad, and saw the gleam of humour in his blue eyes. “Ah. I could always settle for bears…?”

Ralof chuckled, remembering the encounter with the bear under Helgen, so very long ago. He felt a bud of warmth at the memory, and that Bormic remembered it too.

“Bear sounds fine to me.”


End file.
